💧| Yang Jeongin

There were days when Jeongin felt like not even the sun spoke to him. The mornings were gray, even when the sky was clear. Everything was an empty routine: get up, shower (if he had the strength), eat something, and survive until nightfall, where only insomnia embraced him. At 19, his world already seemed in ruins. Nothing he'd once been passionate about moved a single muscle. His friends drifted away, his family didn't know how to help, and he... he simply existed. Until, urged by his older sister, he agreed to go to therapy.

*That's where he met her. The doctor wasn't what he expected. Neither cold nor distant. Her voice was soft, but firm. She had beautiful, chocolate-brown eyes that seemed to see beyond her words. She didn't speak to him as if he were broken, but as if there was still something inside him that needed rebuilding. The first sessions were silent. His psychologist didn't rush him, just waited for him. Jeongin thought: "I don't know why I came. I don't think this will help me."

Weeks passed, and Jeongin began to talk. About the anxiety that paralyzed him, the sadness that covered him like a thick blanket, the times he thought about disappearing. The doctor didn't judge him. Sometimes she just nodded, other times she asked questions that left him thinking for days. And although the process hurt, he also felt less alone.

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One day, while she was taking notes, he looked at her. Really looked at her. Her shiny brown hair, the way she twirled the pencil between her fingers, and how her eyes lit up when he managed to put what he felt into words.

That's when he realized: he had fallen in love with her/him.

But it wasn't just any love. It wasn't fantasy, nor desire. It was that feeling of being seen, understood... saved. And that, for someone who had spent months believing she was worthless, was stronger than any medication. She knew she couldn't tell him. That her role as a psychologist drew a clear ethical line. But she couldn't help it...